


Justin and the Sea-Monkeys

by Frayach



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gap Filler, M/M, Series Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 21:13:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frayach/pseuds/Frayach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin isn't sure what he thinks of Brian's odd present, and Brian isn't sure he can say good-bye even though he knows he has to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Justin and the Sea-Monkeys

**Author's Note:**

> The Sea-Monkey reference will only make sense to people who, like me and Brian, were kids during the 70s and those young whipper-snappers who read this link: [Sea-Monkeys](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sea-Monkeys)

“What the hell are they?”

“That’s a nice way of thanking me for my thoughtful gift. I thought you yearned for a pet.”

Brian stripped off his jacket and threw it over the back of the couch. It was fucking _hot_ outside. Sixty-seven degrees in late March? In the Pitts? At this rate, by the time April 16th came around, they’d be getting married in shorts, sandals and Hawaiian shirts. Complete with leis. There had to be leis, otherwise what would he and Mikey giggle about like fourteen year-old boys. _Leis, get it? Leis as in laid, get it? As in get laid? Hahaha!_

“Uhm, yeah. Once. A long time ago.”

Brian opened the refrigerator partially because he wanted a beer and partially to hide his face. He was biting his upper lip to keep from laughing. Justin had been doing that a lot lately – phrasing comments in terms of “I used to want X” instead of “I want X.” It was finally dawning on him that if he said “I want X,” then Brian would immediately find X and get it for him. It didn’t matter how rare or expensive or outrageous; if Justin said he wanted something, he got it. After all, what about “I’ll give him anything” did he not understand? Did he really believe Brian would do something half-assed? Hello? Golden Gardenias, anyone? Forget the venue, caterer, food, drink and suits Brian wouldn’t mind being caught dead in, the damn golden gardenias cost $130 per bloom – per _bloom_. Emmett had almost dropped dead from either shock or ecstasy when Brian ordered 200 and wrote a check out for $26,000 on the spot.

“Well, I hadn’t forgotten. It was one of the reasons you left me, remember? Brian, that lecherous meanie, doesn’t want babies, or puppies or wittle bunny-wabbits.” He handed the beer to Justin who drank half of it and then handed it back. Brian held the now half-empty bottle up to the light and raised his eyebrows.

“Hey, you offered it to me,” Justin said. He took off his coat and threw it on top of Brian’s. “I was speaking figuratively when I said I wanted a pet.”

“Bullshit.”

They stood looking at each other in one of their who’s-going-to-laugh-and-turn-this-all-into-a-joke-first competitions.

“Bullshit,” Brian said again. “You’re the least figurative person I know.”

Justin gave him a WTF look, and Brian relented. Laughing, he reached out and grabbed a fistful of Justin’s t-shirt. “C’mere,” he said and tugged. The resulting kiss could’ve become much more, but then Justin remembered _them_. He pulled back far enough so he could look up into Brian’s eyes.

“You didn’t answer me,” he said. “What are those _things_ in that pickle jar?”

Brian tried his best to suppress a smile. “Those ‘things’ as you call them are your new pets. They’re called Sea-Monkeys. Here . . .” he went to the kitchen and poked around in the trash until he found the box the Sea-Monkeys had arrived in. “ _It’s AMAZING_ ,” he read, mimicking the voice of a used car salesman or the narrator in one of those in-your-face-not-sold-in-retail-stores-one-time-offer-only T.V. ads. “ _Own a bowlfull of happiness!_ And yes, in case you were wondering, that is, in fact, ‘bowlfull’ with three Ls.”

Justin was just looking at him. Brian was disappointed until it dawned on him.

“You weren’t a child in the 70s.”

“Are you only just realizing that now?”

Brian, uncharacteristically, ignored the twat’s snark. “Every kid had Sea-Monkeys in the seventies. Well, everyone except me. They reminded my mother of Darwin, but Mikey had some. He always had the cool stuff.”

Justin held up the jar full of water and brine shrimp and scrutinized it for an unnecessarily long time.

“They don’t look ‘cool,’ and they don’t look like monkeys,” he said. “They look like plankton.”

“They aren't plankton; they’re _the most adorable pets ever to bring smiles, laughter and fun into your home_. Jesus, someone was seriously high when they wrote that copy.”

Justin peered into the jar. “I’m not feeling the fun,” he said.

“Christ, Sunshine, where’s your imagination? That’s what’s wrong with kids these days: they have things called computers and video games. All Mikey and I had was freeze-dried shrimp . . .”

“And Patrick Swayze.”

“Look, if it’ll make things better, I’ll buy an aquarium, and you can fill it with little houses with white picket fences for them to live in . . .”

“Give me that,” Justin said, snatching the box out of Brian’s hands.

“Don’t believe me?” Brian said with a shrug. “Read it for yourself.”

“ _Always clowning around, these frolicsome pets swim, stunt and play games with each other. Because they’re so full of tricks, you’ll never tire of watching them_.”

Brian had opened another beer, and it almost came out his nose, he was laughing so hard.

“ _They require only minimum care although they LOVE attention. Anyone who enjoys the company of pets will LOVE Sea-Monkeys_.”

“See,” Brian said, his eyes watering from nearly getting his sinuses flushed out with Sam Adam’s Boston Lager. “Anyone who loves pets, will love Sea-Monkeys. C’mon, look how ‘frolicsome’ they are.”

“Perhaps, and I do mean _perhaps_ , I could watch them for thirty seconds, but I’ll need a joint if you expect me to watch them longer than that.”

Brian perked up. While it was true that Justin wasn’t finding the Sea-Monkeys as amusing as he’d hoped (clearly the only people who were going to appreciate the hilarity were Mikey and Ted – unfortunately where Emmett came from, they probably ate Sea-Monkey soup for breakfast, lunch and dinner), Brian always found it amusing to get Justin stoned.

“Twist my arm,” he said. He opened the window a crack and then went to the bedroom to change into jeans and a t-shirt. “You know where my stash is,” he called. “Go ahead and roll us one.”

“You roll it,” Justin said. “I suck at it. Remember you got pissed when I spilled all that pot down the sink that one time.”

Brian was pulling on his shirt when he returned to the kitchen and smiled as he watched Justin’s eyes fix on the briefly revealed skin between the hem of the shirt and the waistband of his jeans. Hhhmmm. Maybe the Sea-Monkeys could wait; after all, it wasn’t like they were going to run away or something. Then he remembered the joint; not only did he like getting Justin stoned, he liked fucking his relaxed boneless body until one or the other – or both of them – passed out.

He carried the stash, the papers and the Sea-Monkeys into the living room and put them on the coffee table. They sat down of the floor, side-by-side, leaning against the couch. Justin examined the Sea-Monkeys while Brian rolled their joint, licking the gummed edge of the paper and then twisting the tips to seal it.

“Voila,” he said. “Mind getting my lighter?”

Justin put the Sea-Monkeys on the coffee table and stood up. “Inside pocket,” Brian said when Justin had trouble finding it. Justin tossed it to him, and Brian caught it.

The shit was strong, but mellow. They hadn’t even finished the joint, and they were already falling against each other, giggling like lunatics.

“ _So eager to please, they can even be trained,_ ” Justin read off the Sea-Monkey box and then held it out of reach when Brian tried to snatch it away.

“ _Best of all, you can teach them to obey your commands._ ”

“Ow,” Brian said, handing Justin the joint. “Ow, my stomach muscles. Stop making me laugh.” There were tears in his eyes.

Justin took a drag and then handed the joint back to Brian. “Okay, ready? I’m going to command them to do something. ‘Sea-Monkeys,’” he said, sounding like a cross between Mysterious Marilyn and Bob, the Dungeon Master at Adonis. “‘You will do as I say . . .’”

Brian gave him his I’m-waiting look.

Justin cocked his head and frowned as though he was taking a difficult exam. “I can’t think of anything to command them to do.” He seemed upset about that fact.

“I know,” Brian said, coming to his rescue, “command them to go to the store and buy us some Doritos.”

“‘Sea-Monkeys,’” Justin said in a low, serious voice. “‘Go to Kwik Fill and buy us . . . , hold on.’” He turned to Brian with a solemn expression. “The Sea-Monkeys want to know if we want cool ranch or original nacho flavor.”

Brian pinched the joint out and put the roach in a plastic bag. He pulled a deliciously pliant Justin toward him and helped Justin settle his head on his shoulder.

“I don’t care,” he said. “Tell them to get a bag of both and we’ll choose later.”

Justin proceeding to relate Brian’s suggestion to the Sea-Monkeys. His weight against Brian’s side was warm and relaxed. He turned his head and kissed Brian’s throat. “What else should I tell them to do?” he murmured.

“I dunno, tell ‘em to have an orgy.”

Justin pulled away and looked into Brian’s eyes. “Do they have sex?”

Brian laughed. The question was almost as funny as the whole idea of trainable brine shrimp. “Everything has sex.”

“Slugs have really long, complicated dicks. I saw a video once on YouTube.”

Justin’s voice was sleepy, but his mouth opened the instant Brian touched it with his. They moved so that Justin was between Brian’s bent legs, leaning back against Brian’s chest. It wasn’t the easiest position to make out in, but Brian liked the way Justin’s hips felt between his thighs. He slid his hands under Justin’s t-shirt and felt him shiver.

“Cold?” he whispered into their kiss. “The day was warm, but I bet it’ll be back near freezing during the night. Damn March.”

“Ah, the joys of an early spring,” Justin said, his lips never really leaving Brian’s. “Remind me again why we aren’t getting married in June like normal people?”

“Because we’re not normal people. How many couples do you think are getting stoned and bossing around shrimp tonight?”

Justin laughed. Brian could feel the muscles in his abdomen tense and relax beneath his palms.

“You know what I want . . .”

Brian couldn’t wait. What would Justin want this time? Given the pot they’d smoked, it could be anything.

“. . . I want to put big crystal bowls at the center of all the tables at the reception and fill them with Sea-Monkeys. They can be our party favors.”

“Well, we can’t have people fighting over who gets to take the bowl home,” Brian said, his voice serious and thoughtful. “We’ll have to provide every guest with a little jar . . .”

Suddenly Justin was wide awake. “Oh my God, yes! That’s what we’ll do. I saw some cute jars in the Pottery Barn catalog. Yay! How exciting. I’ll order them tomorrow,” he paused in the midst of his wedding-planning-orgasm. “Tell me again, how many people did we invite?”

“A million,” Brian said.

“No, we didn’t,” Justin scoffed. “I don’t know a million people and even if I did you wouldn’t like three-quarters of them.”

Brian tackled him. Enough. No more pot. No more wedding planning, and no more Sea-Monkeys. Justin had been squirming in his lap in all his excitement, and Brian was embarrassingly close to coming before he even got undressed.

“To bed,” he said huskily and then slapped Justin’s ass when he stood up. Justin held out his hand to pull him to his feet. They had each other out of their t-shirts in no time. It was clear that the “bed” was going to have to be the couch. But before Brian could get the condom on, Justin threw his t-shirt at the jar of Sea-Monkeys, obscuring it from view. Brian raised a questioning eyebrow.

Justin climbed onto his lap and slowly impaled himself with a long, contented sigh. “They’re pervs,” he said.

“I thought you liked people watching us fuck.”

“People, Brian, not plankton. Critical difference.”

“Sea-Monkeys.”

“Plankton.”

“Sea-Monkeys.”

“Plankton.”

“Sea-Monkeys. Why do you insist on sullying a fond childhood memory with your cynical millennial ways?”

Justin pulled back so he could look in Brian’s eyes. He smoothed one of his eyebrows, smiling indulgently. “I keep forgetting,” he said. “You’re really _really_ old . . .”

But Brian would never know what appalling remark his child-bride was going to make next. He caught Justin’s mouth with the kind of kiss designed to melt whatever brain cells survived the pot. Justin looked dazed when they parted.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?” Brian asked. “The Sea-Monkeys? I told you you’d love them.”

Justin rubbed the tip of his nose against his own. “No, stupid,” he said softly. “For not letting me say ‘no’ a second time. For not letting me walk away again.”

 

* * * * *

So what do you keep and what do you throw away when your almost-husband walks out of your life and in to his own? Do you keep the Dr. Pepper and the gummy bears, after all, it’s not like they’ll go bad. What about the pencils and the stubs of chalk? The scarf? The half-empty boxes of antihistamines, tubes of nasal spray and bottles of Calamine lotion? 

What about the fucking Sea-Monkeys?

 _I’d bring them_ , Justin had said. _But I’m pretty sure they won’t make it pass security_.

Brian had quirked a smile because that was what he was supposed to do. One misstep, and Justin would refuse to go. He’d been wavering ever since their announcement at what was supposed to be their rehearsal dinner, especially when Brian had made the mistake of coming home right after saying good-bye to Linds and Gus. He’d cried a little, and Justin had pretty much lost his shit.

 _I’m not leaving!_ he’d raged. _I’m not leaving you here alone!_

The ensuing argument had been one of their take-no-prisoners battles. It’d had the silver lining of turning Brian’s grief into anger, but it’d ended with Justin in tears, and that was no good. Neither one of them could cry. Tears were like a match to a fuse on a stick of dynamite. It would be too easy to change their minds and elope.

 _What if I break all my fingers with a hammer?_ Justin had shouted at him. _Or slam them in the car door?_

 _Then you’ll have to learn to paint with your fucking toes!_ Brian had shouted back.

Sex had been raw – literally and figuratively. Justin hadn’t fucked since his last test, and several times over the course of the week, the wet spot under Brian’s ass wasn’t just lube. Brian had been sure to keep it to a minimum as much as possible though – not because he was worried about HIV but because being fucked (raw!) had made him want to beg Justin to stay.

He walked around the loft in big looping figure eights, now and then resting his fingers on something Justin had left behind. Each time he was surprised to find no pulse. Justin had taken his heart, his hands, his laughter – even his scent. But that’s how these things happen – how they’re supposed to happen. Good-byes were as much a fact of life as birth and death.

He smoked a lot and cried a little, and then he took all of Justin’s things outside to the dumpster. Justin wouldn’t miss any of them; he’d stored all his important stuff at Jennifer’s. Then he took a shower and got dressed. There was beer in the fridge and whiskey in the cabinet, but he grabbed a bottle of sparkling water instead and opened his laptop. After a few minutes, an instant message popped up.

_You threw away my shit, didn’t you?_

He smiled. _It was cluttering up my newly reclaimed space._

 _Asshole_.

Why did being called an asshole close his throat around a lump of tears?

_Are you all settled?_

_Pretty much_.

_How’s Daphne’s friend?_

_Okay. Her boyfriend seems like a dick, though. I hope he’s not going to be around much._

Brian didn’t reply. He knew it would be like this – people he didn’t know, places he’d never been. It was just happening so soon . . .

_You okay?_

_Dandy._

_Brian._

_Justin._

_If you’re going to be like this, then I’m going to come home._

Crafty bastard.

_The fuck you are._

Brian got up and went into the bedroom for his pack of cigarettes. By the time he returned, Justin had written the fucking sequel to _War and Peace_.

_You need to talk to me, Brian. You need to tell me the truth, no matter how you think I’ll react. Let me decide that – don’t try to pre-guess me. Let me feel the way I’m going to feel and think what I’m going to think. You owe me that. Just remember: We’re equals now. I’ve got you by the balls just like you always had mine. You love me. Suck it up and deal, asshole. And by the way, don’t you dare flush my Sea-Monkeys down the toilet._

Brian laughed. He couldn’t help it.

_How do you know I haven’t already?_

_Because the monkeys and I have a psychic connection_.

 _Uh-huh. I see_.

 _Go ahead and laugh, but it’s true_.

_So, they’re going to be tattling on me?_

_Yup._

_Treacherous bastards._

_Never underestimate plankton._

_Look who’s fallen in love._

_I’ve had a lot of practice. Being in love with brine shrimp is a cinch compared to being in love with you._

_I’m better in bed though_.

0_o

;)

_You’re weird. Signing off now. I need to get some sleep._

_Is this where I’m supposed to get sappy and wish you sweet dreams?_

Taylor42171 has signed off.

Brian shook his head and laughed. The twat had spared him the indignity of stooping to stereotypical heterosexual endearments. Justin didn’t need to mind-meld with the Sea -Monkeys. He could already read Brian’s mind without them . . .

. . . which was a damn good thing because Brian had left the Sea-Monkeys on the radiator by accident and unwittingly boiled them alive. He knew he was going to be sharing a lot of uncomfortable truths with Justin for the foreseeable future, but Justin didn’t need to know about the fate of his plankton. After all, unlike too many other things in his life, they were easy to replace.


End file.
